My day begins with an early morning drive, about 3 miles down the highway, to deposit Mr. Chef at his hotel for work. Join me for this adventure…
After hurtling down our hill, our faithful Honda Stream rattling & jouncing so that I often look behind to see if car parts are strewn in our wake, we arrive at a stop light. When our light turns green I keep my foot on the brake & wait for the multitude of vehicles that are running the light in each direction, horns blaring, as if the act of honking confers upon them a magical ability to pass thru all traffic signals unscathed. The car behind me is not happy about my slow start, as he has been laying on the horn from the moment the light changed. The possibility of my being broadsided by oncoming traffic appears to be of little concern to him.
We make the turn – we are now heading east along the coast. From this stretch of highway a passenger can get a pretty good view of the ocean. A driver, however, must not risk the look. Sometimes ships can be seen in the distance. The ocean can be roiling & tumbling, or so calm that you wonder if perhaps someone flipped a switch & turned the waves off during the night. No beach to speak of, tho my husband once saw a naked woman in the ocean at this location & he looks surreptitiously out his window every day hoping that lightening might strike twice…
So why can’t the driver look at the scenery? Are you kidding? Four lane road, cement median. Speed limit: roughly 30mph. Shoulder: none. I dart into the slow lane as if my life depends on it, hand poised above my horn. In the fast lane, cars, safari jeeps & buses filled with tourists are racing past us at twice the speed limit, swaying in defiance of gravity, the 30mph limit being nothing but a laughable suggestion. Up ahead, both legal & illegal taxi drivers swoop hopefully from lane to lane vying for passengers. When the taxis see a possibility they stop – sorry, they STOP! – Immediately! Where ever they are: in the fast lane, in the slow lane, in the middle of an intersection. The drivers behind the taxis all honk in disgust while leaning out of their windows hollering & gesticulating wildly; seemingly incredulous that such a thing could happen in front of them (as if this very same situation did not occur yesterday). The cars stuck behind the taxis then swerve with great exaggeration (so that we can all appreciate how upset they are) into whatever lane seems to be moving while cutting in front of the rest of us, as close to our vehicles as possible without actually removing paint. Some drivers are good at this, yet some seem to be relying solely on the braking skills of others. In the midst of this pandemonium, barefoot natives in raggedy clothes wander aimlessly about scratching their dreads & talking into their Blackberrys. They often step into the road at whim. It is advisable not to hit them.
We approach another stop light – it turns red. Before stopping I check my rear view mirror to make sure that the car behind me is in agreement with my planned action. If he seems like he is not amenable we will run the red light instead. It matters not that this light is in front of the police station. The policemen are waiting up ahead at their speed trap, as we can tell by all the flashing headlights in the oncoming lanes. I wish the policemen luck (in their cute striped pants & machine guns) & smirk when they catch someone who blew past me a moment ago. As for me, I drive the speed limit these days. The policemen’s pants aren’t that cute…
After this, the speed limit increases to about 50mph. The road opens up, the ocean slides away & we are now in the hotel zone, where the hotels hide behind their fortress-like gates, each manned by security personnel. Soon we approach our destination, where the gatekeepers allow us entry, without even a password. Once again, my husband has arrived at work calm & relaxed after our uneventful drive…now I just have to make the trip back home…
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